Revelations of the Dead
by LoneHoundoom
Summary: Once being a trainer was just a game. Things changed. Now, one unsuspecting boy will have to set things right...  Based on a Nuzlocke run of HeartGold. Rated for language, tobacco use,fairly strong violence, & some mild sexuality.   I'm back, everybody!
1. The Kid from Newbark

**Revelations of the Dead**

**A Nuzlocke Tale**

* * *

Hello again, constant readers. I have some explaining to do.

I know that many of you want to see Mergers and Headshot continued, but life in general nipped those in the bud. I'm afraid there won't be a return to them in the foreseeable future. However, the tale you're about to read incorporates many of the unused ideas that would have gone into Mergers, so consider it a spiritual sequel or something.

Next, I think I should explain the concept of this fic to those few of you who don't know already. The Nuzlocke Challenge is a set of rules designed to make Pokémon more challenging and more traumat- err, that is to say, emotionally fulfilling. The rules are as follows:

1)Catch only the first Pokémon you see in each new area.

2)If a Pokémon faints, it must be released- it is considered dead.

The original Nuzlocke run inspired a web comic which I suggest you all hunt down and read immediately, because it's utterly hilarious and excellently dramatic. (Hale's fan-comic is also worth a read.)

It also inspired this fic, which is essentially a heavily embellished and expanded account of my Nuzlocke run on Heart Gold.

I hope you will enjoy this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Purely for reference, here's the variation on the rules I'm using:

1)Catch only the first Pokémon in a new area.

2) Dead Pokémon will be deposited in a specially designated PC box and won't be used for the rest of the game.

So, without further ado:

* * *

_**Prologue: The Kid from Newbark **_

* * *

The kid in the red jacket picks up his pace, and the man in the black uniform follows. They both smile- the man in black because he thinks he's doing a good job of tailing the kid, and the kid because he's not.

The kid ducks into a building without warning, and the man in black stumbles a bit. Whatever, right? The kid didn't see him. The problem being that the building in question is definitely crowded, and that stumble may have cost him his mark. He runs in- _Stupid_, the kid thinks from his vantage point to the left of the doors- and immediately goes for the elevator. Of course the kid's on the roof- that's where all the kids hang out in this godforsaken money sink.

The kid snorts loudly and leisurely starts up the stairs, pulling the brim of his hat a little lower.

The man in black steps out on the roof, and stares around. It hardly takes Sherlockian powers of observation to see that the kid isn't here- no one is. _Where the hell-?_ he thinks, and that's all he has time for before something slams into his left side just below the ribcage and he sprawls on the hard floor of the rooftop café.

Struggling to get up, he glimpses just enough to confirm that the thing that slammed into him was a Togetic and feel an embarrassed flush begin to creep up his neck- Togetics are too tiny to be knocking him around. The kid walks casually to him and digs one sneaker into his sternum.

"Look, man" the kid sneers, "I know exactly who you are and what you hoped to accomplish by hunting me- and I'm telling you now to give up. Go back to your little hideout, tell your boss that he'll have to negotiate with me, since he can't kill me, and then stay away. Understood?"

The man nods eagerly, wearing a sycophantic grin. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, go back to boss and tell him… MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!" he roars suddenly, and tosses the red-and-white ball he'd been inching towards while the kid talked.

The shit-eating grin turns to dismay as the kid swats the pokéball out of the air with a smirk.

"You just don't listen, man. Dagobah, see if you can convince him to do what I asked."

A large shadow suddenly looms from above the man's head. There's a flash of blue and purple and brown, and then he's drifting in a sea of black.

"Amateurs." he hears as he fades away into unconsciousness.

* * *

R&R, friends. And seriously- read Nuzlocke Comics. They're awesome.

Yes, I'm a whore.


	2. Part Time Courier

Here's the latest chapter. Expect more on the way soon- I might actually finish this one!

* * *

_**Chapter 1:Part Time Courier **_

_**

* * *

**_

She walks towards me, hips swinging from side to side, body looking perfect beneath the skintight suit. Grinning broadly, I swagger to meet her. As we draw nearer, she breaks into a run and wraps her arms around me- aw, hell yes. She looks up, bright blue eyes staring into my soul, and says "Thank you, Chris. If you hadn't been here, Ridley would have killed me for sure!"

Her eyes narrow a bit and she grins slyly. "Here. Let me thank you in the traditional manner of Zebes." She leans in towards me, closing her eyes, full lips puckered-

BRAH BRAH BRAH.

My eyes fly open and my right one twitches madly. Without bothering to look, I reach out and slam my hand down on the snooze button of my alarm. One of these days, I'll just unplug the damn thing before I go to sleep and actually finish the dream about Samus.

I get up and walk to the bathroom connected to my room and take a shower. On my way out, I check myself out in the mirror. I don't know why every human on Earth feels the need to do that when they pass a mirror- maybe to make sure they haven't transformed into Cthulu since last time. Eyes still grey? Check. Hair? Dirty blonde and messy as ever. Still pale? Sigh.

I get dressed- AC/DC t-shirt, jeans, socks, wahey. I start down the stairs-

BRAH BRAH BRAH.

Bugger. I never turned that annoying piece of crap off. I bound up the stairs two at a time and switch the alarm clock off, giving it a reproachful look. I turn around- oh, what's this?

A piece of paper's been slipped under my door. I pick it up and read:

"Chris- I'm going to be working overtime today. Breakfast is in the fridge. Eat quickly- Professor Elm came around earlier looking for you. Mum"

I wonder what the professor wants with me? Hopefully something that pays well- I may be the only kid in my class who still doesn't have a real job. Somehow I doubt it. I've done a few favors for the professor before, and he's never offered to pay.

I run back downstairs, jumping the last step- it's a custom for me and my friends to jump steps- and go to the kitchen. I say a little prayer for my mother when I open the fridge. She took the time to make French toast before she went to work, on her tight schedule- Mew and Arceus bless that woman .

I toss the toast in the microwave for a few seconds and stare off into space, thinking about everything that's been going on in my life lately- namely, nothing. Sure, I have a small group of friends that I hang out with regularly, and we have fun, but nothing interesting ever seems to happen. We never go to proper parties, we never go new and exciting places… Surely there's something more to life than what I've lived? Surely I'm not doomed to just play RPGs all day until I die of boredom? Surely there's a greater purpose for me in this world? Surely-

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Ooh, French toast time.

* * *

As I scarf down the toast- buttered and covered in syrup- I hear footsteps on the stairs. My little sister, Rose, stumbles down, looking like hell warmed over and wrapped in sweatpants. Well, that's what she gets for staying up all night, every night. She blearily walks into the kitchen, smiling vaguely.

"Mornin' Chris. Where's mum?"

"She already left for work." I say between mouthfuls of heaven made of cinnamon and vanilla, "And she's got overtime. Can you handle yourself alone while I head over to Professor Elm's place? He wants me to run an errand for him or something."

"Yeah, sure. Just don't expect to be let in when you get home." She smiles, pouring herself a bowl of Pika-O's. _How can she eat that crap? _I wonder as she tosses a spoon into the whole mess and goes off to eat it in front of the television.

After I lick my plate and put it in the dishwasher, I put on my ratty old tennis shoes, grab my favorite grey hoodie, and head out the door, into the pleasant, breezy, wholesome, _boring _world that is Newbark town in early June.

I make it all of two steps before I'm bowled over by a rabid blue ball shouting at the top of its lungs.

"Hello, Marill." I groan. I sit up, wincing, and check to see if the back of my head is bleeding. It isn't, but it's going to be sore for a while.

Meanwhile, Marill has started prodding me with her foot, whether to check if I'm okay or to entertain herself I don't know.

"Oh, Mew, are you alright, Chris?" comes a voice from a few yards away. I look up and see Julie, my neighbor from a few houses down, running towards me.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I call, getting up slowly. I almost fall back down as dizziness hits me. _I should see a doctor, I think I have a concussion _I think as she runs closer, still looking concerned.

"Marill, I told you to be _careful!_" she scolds the small, blue pokémon. Marill looks up at her, round ears and jagged tail drooping. Julie's look of scorn softens. "It's alright, Marill. You just have to try not to knock people over."

Never has a story had a moral that was more applicable to everyday life.

"Sorry about Marill, Chris. She's kind of hyperactive. I'm sure she didn't mean anything." She smiles at me apologetically.

"Not a problem." I say, making little 'Forget it' hand motions. "Hey, do you know where Professor Elm is?" I add.

"Well, I couldn't say for sure, but _in his house_ sounds likely." She rolls her green eyes and turns toward Route 29, red, shoulder-length hair blowing to the side in the constant wind.

"Er, right. Thanks." I laugh a bit, not enjoying how fake it sounds. "I'll talk to you later, Julie."

"Wow. That was pathetic." I look up to see Rose leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, superior smirk on her face. "Her Marill knocks you over, and you just brush it off instead of trying to garner sympathy? Do you even _have _a penis?"

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Oh, come on, I know you like her."

_Astounding, Sherlock! What subtle nuances led you to that deduction?_

"First of all, it's none of your business if I do. Second of all, you are the only person who would actually consider playing up an injury to win someone over. You disgust me. Good bye." I start towards Elm Labs, flipping the bird over my shoulder. A door slams, and I grin like a madman.

* * *

Elm Labs, towering over the rest of Newbark town. I have to admit that it's just as impressive after a few visits. I take the stairs to the upper floor at a jog, not bothering to knock- everybody knows everybody in Newbark, and locks may as well be guns for all the more they get used.

Mrs. Elm smiles up at me from the table, holding a novel-her thing for Harlequin is just about her only flaw. "Oh, hey Chris- Are you looking for James?"

"Yeah, I am." I say, returning the smile.

She sighs heavily. "I suppose he wants your help with some project. He's in the downstairs lab."

"Right, thanks." I say, and turn to leave.

"Chris?"

"Yes?" I turn around. Then I jerk my head back a bit, surprised by the look of intense fear and worry on her face. Do I have a Spinarak on me? Is someone in the next room with a gun?

"Tell him that he needs to come and eat dinner. And… if he asks you to do anything dangerous… just turn him down, okay?"

I frown. Why would Professor Elm ask me to do anything dangerous? What's so dangerous about evolutionary research on pokémon?

"Erm… sure, Mrs. Elm. I'll.. I'll be careful." I slowly start to turn towards the door again, waiting to see if she wants to deliver any more strange warnings.

Fortunately, she seems to have alleviated all her concerns. "Well, it's been nice talking to you, Chris." She smiles wryly and turns back to her novel.

* * *

"Hey, Professor?" I call, poking my head into the lab.

"Oh, Chris!" Elm looks up from his desk and smiles, making me think of how people say that married couples start acting like each other. "Come in, sit down, I've got some things to tell you about."

I walk past banks of sophisticated machinery and interns hard at work analyzing the pelvic structure of Kabutops or whatever it is that they're paid to do, and take a seat across from the professor.

"Chris, I was hoping that you could help me out. You see, I want to figure out if walking with a pokémon will affect its growth. I have a few spare pokémon over there (he gestures to a sort of pedestal in a corner with three pokéballs sitting on it), and I was wondering if you could walk around with one of them."

I shift uncomfortably and look at the floor. "Professor… I failed my license exam. I can't train a pokémon."

He frowns at me. "You're a smart boy, Chris. How did you fail the exam?"

I glare into a corner. "It was just a problem with my history score. It doesn't really mean anything. I mean, what does it matter whether Hannibal drove Rhyhorn or Donphan? How does that affect my ability to take care of pokémon?"

He tries to look stern, but the corner of his mouth twitches a bit. "Chris, history is important. It teaches us the triumphs and failures of our predecessors, what we must do to be successful, what we must not do to avoid disaster, stop fiddling with the zipper on your jacket."

I jerk my head up with a start. This time he can't hold back a full-on smile.

"In any event, Chris, you have my special permission. If anyone asks to see your license, just hand them my number and let me handle it. Now, if you could just choose your pokémon…"

I step up to the pedestal and examine the pokéballs. A screen on the front shows which pokémon is in the ball closest to me. I spin through them a bit until one catches my eye- a Totodile. Seems like a good pokémon to start out with. I grab the pokéball and release the crocodile pokémon. It jumps around energetically, then stops to stare at me.

"Hmm." Elm sits down, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "A Totodile, huh? I always had you pegged as a Cyndaquil type." He shakes his head. Suddenly, a beeping noise issues from his computer. He turns to the monitor and looks intently at it for a few minutes. After a while, he turns back to me.

"Well, it seems that I've found the perfect opportunity for you to spend time with your pokémon. One of my colleagues just sent me an email. Apparently, he's found something he thinks will interest me. Probably another bloody Togepi egg." he mutters. "Anyway, I was wondering if you could go to his house and pick it up for me. He lives just north of Cherrygrove. He calls himself Mr. Pokémon. "

I think about what Mrs. Elm said. Could this guy be dangerous? Maybe crazy? Surely anybody who calls themselves Mr. Pokémon is a bit unstable.

And yet…this could be an opportunity for adventure.

"Sure, Professor." I grin.

He grins back. "Thanks, Chris. You're doing me a great service. Now, before you go, I've got something special for you." He rummages around in his desk and comes up with a silvery headset with a small rectangle behind the earpiece.

"It's a Pokécom." He says, handing it to me. I stare at it in shock. He's seriously giving me a Pokécom? They're not as rare as they used to be, but they're hardly standard equipment.

"Go ahead. Try it out." He gestures at the Totodile, which is poking interestedly at a leg of Elm's desk.

I fit the headset on, and kneel down to look at the creature.

"Hello. My name's Chris. What's up?"

"Totodile, dile, to toto." it says. For a second, nothing more. And then…

"Cool. Call me Josh. Are we gonna get out and do something?"

I laugh out loud. I'm actually holding a conversation with a pokémon! This is awesome.

"C'mon, Josh. We've got an errand to run for Professor Elm here." I turn toward the door- then stop, staring over Elm's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" He asks, looking behind him.

"I thought there was something outside that window…" I murmur, moving towards it. Was there a flash of red out there, just for a second?

Elm rests a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure it was nothing. Now, go on. I'm sure you want to go off on an adventure!"

I smile at him- sure it was nothing. I mean, everything's nothing compared to finally becoming a trainer!

I head towards the door, Josh in tow.

* * *

Hmm... Now that I read back through this chapter, I wonder if some of the more risque bits were excessive...

Well, what do you think? R&R. Expect the next installment soon- I'm blazing right through my Nuzlocke run.


	3. Farther from Home

Sorry this update took so long. Due to circumstances that it would take a very long time to explain, I had to restart my Nuzlocke run.

Also?

My Spanish teacher is a sadist.

Before we begin, I'll give everyone a quick trigger warning: there will be a very, very disturbing bit of dark humor involving Alzheimer's at the beginning of this chapter. If that's a touchy issue for you, I suggest you skip the first section (marked by horizontal lines). And I sincerely apologize if you're offended. My great-grandmother has Alzheimer's, and I know how it feels to watch a loved one go through that.

* * *

**_Chapter 2: Farther from Home_**

**_

* * *

_**

As I leave Elm Labs behind, I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of Numel filters. I leave the cigarette hanging out of the corner of my mouth, momentarily unlit, to contemplate the convenience I might have had with a Cyndaquil.

I shake my head. There's no point thinking about that now. I've made my choice, and I'm overall happy with it. I strike a match and light my cigarette. For some strange reason, I've always preferred old-fashioned wood matches to lighters.

"Hey, Chris!" comes a voice from my left. Julie again. I take a drag and wave.

She gasps when she draws near. "Professor Elm gave you a pokémon?" She leans down to examine Josh, who snaps playfully at her. She grins- and then a thought strikes her. She gives me a suspicious look. Oh Lord, here we go.

"Didn't you fail the license exam?" she asks, making a visible effort to seem nonchalant.

"The Professor gave me special permission." I sigh. I puff at the cigarette fiercely and tap the ashes onto the ground. Now she's not trying to look anything but disapproving.

"I keep telling you, those things are going to kill you."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, because I so _desperately_ want to live to seventy, go senile, be put in a home, spend every day wandering around confused, asking people where my long-dead relatives are, before eventually falling victim to some negligent intern and dying in horrible pain, screaming for my mother while everybody around me does exactly jack shit."

She stares at me, wide-eyed with shock. And then…

"Can I bum one of those off of you?"

I fish a cig out of the pack and hold it out to her. For a second she looks like she's going to tell me off, say something along the lines of "I was only joking, I don't want your cancer." For whatever reason, she decides to just take it. I snap a light to it, and we both lean against the building, staring into the middle distance. Josh and Marill are staring at each other- sizing each other up? Figuring out opening lines? Waiting for Julie and I to finish up and go our separate ways? Something, in any event.

My thoughts are interrupted by a shout from the direction of my house. "Chris!" Rose yells. "A package just came for you. Come and get it!"

I take a last puff and drop the cigarette. "I'll see you around, Julie. And don't make a habit of this crap. It'll kill you."

As I walk back to my place, I can almost feel her urge to throw a rock at my head.

* * *

The package turns out to be my Pokégear, back from the shop. I strap the vaguely watch-like apparatus onto my wrist and turn to Rose.

"Hey, Rose, I'm going to be out today. Elm asked me to run an errand for him. Tell mum if she gets back before me, okay?"

She nods disinterestedly, concentrating on the sketchpad in front of her. I know better than to try and snap her out of it when she's trying to draw. Pulling Josh gently away from the table leg he was about to gnaw, I head outside, making a beeline for Route 29.

* * *

The walk along Route 29 is surprisingly uneventful. Somehow, I don't even manage to run into any pokémon. Josh totters along behind me, staring around at the unfamiliar sights and breathing amazed remarks to himself. I suppose that sort of behavior's to be expected- he was probably locked up in that pokéball for a long time.

We're just passing a checkpoint that presumably leads north to Blackthorn when a though strikes me. I stop and turn to Josh, who's examining a flower with interest.

"Hey, Josh?" I call. He starts and turns to me, looking a bit embarrassed- can Totodiles blush?

"Yeah? What's up, Chris?"

"I was just thinking- how can your name be Josh? I mean, it's not like Poké-speke has the same roots as English, so there can't really be a pokémon equivalent to Josh, right?"

He stares confusedly. "That sentence… it made no sense."

I facepalm and prepare to reiterate, but suddenly I realize the obvious- whenever I say "Josh" into the Pokécom, he hears his own name in Poké-speke. He has no way of knowing that it translates into something else, much less that it has no right to have an English equivalent. Shrugging, I gesture for him to drop it and continue on our way.

* * *

I pass through the entrance to Cherrygrove City and immediately regret it.

_Today is not my day, in terms of staying on my feet_ I muse as a wrinkled, bearded old man in blue robes tackles me from the right.

"Hey, kid!" He shouts exuberantly as I lift myself off the ground, "Welcome to Cherrygrove! I'll be your guide!" Then, surprisingly for a sixty-something but unsurprising for a guy who just floored me effortlessly, he dashes off to the Pokémon Center, a good 20 feet, in the blink of an eye. Then he does an exaggerated double take and dashes back to me before I have time to ask what the fuck.

"Oh, I forgot, you aren't wearing any Devon Corp Brand Running Shoes, are you?" He asks. I exchange looks with Josh and confirm that yes, this old man is on some sort of illicit substance. The old man either doesn't notice or tolerates it anyways. "Follow me, you need to take the tour of the town!" He jogs ahead, and, figuring it can't do any harm, I follow.

"This is our Pokémon Center!" He exclaims with the same forced excitement you hear any seasoned tour guide use. "You'll be needing this place often. Here, your pokémon can be healed while you take a load off your Devon Corp Brand Running Shoes."

Oh. So _that's _his game.

More jogging, and now we're in front of a square, squat building with a blue roof that any good trainer would recognize as a-

"This is a Pokémart! They sell all kinds of useful items, including items manufactured by Devon Corp!"

_Transformers _wasn't this heavy on the product placement.

Jogging. Josh trips over a rock. I stop to help him up, and we both shoot the old man a dirty look. He waits patiently for us at the head of a wide path leading north.

"This is Route 30, leading to Violet City."

You forgot to say "Devon Corp", codger.

Another short jog to the nearby lake. "This is the sea, as you can see." he chuckles. "A Devon Corp Brand Fishing Rod would be useful here." Oh, good dear sweet _Arceus _I may actually kill this man.

Finally, he lead Josh and I to what appears to be a normal house, save for the giant-ass Devon Corp logo above the door. Or is that Devon Corp Brand Devon Corp Logo? I'll have to ask the old man, if I can restrain myself from punching him.

"And this… this is my house! Feel free to come in and ask me questions about Devon Corp's amazing products!" How can a man of his generation have so little dignity? Surely he's got a pension to live off of at this age?

Suddenly, he thrusts a shoebox under my nose. More out of reflex than any real desire to take what he offers me, I grab it.

"Here! Have a free pair of Devon Corp Brand Running Shoes!" He gushes, grinning sycophantically at me. Hoping to get the hell away from him, I take them with a nod and run away. I think I'll just chuck these in a bush somewhere- I can run in my old shoes.

Shaking my head, I start towards Route 30. "Jeez, Josh. I hope we aren't going to run into any more weirdoes like that guy."

He wraps his arms around himself and gives a dramatic shiver. "I know, man. That place of his had a serious Manson thing going on." I'm about to ask him how in the hell he knows about the Mansons when a voice comes from behind us. I turn around and GOOD LORD OLD MAN RIGHT IN MY FACE.

"I forgot! You'll need this Town Map card!" He hands me a Pokégear app card. I'm stunned- no Devon Corp product placement _and _a useful item? This can't be the same old man.

I open up the app. The upper-right corner of the map has a massive Devon Corp logo on it. My cursor, it seems, is also a Devon Corp logo.

I pull back my arm to deck the old man and find that he's already gone.

There is no justice.

* * *

I trudge through the tall grass, headed north on Route 30. Climbing up through a gap in the rock ledge in my way, I hear pokémon calls coming from up ahead. I break into a slow jog and find a couple of young kids standing in the path beside a Pidgey and a Ratatta, tackling back and forth. Mew _almighty_, newb battles are boring. More importantly, though, these guys are blocking my way.

"Yo, guys?" I call to them. They seem too engrossed in the battle to hear me. I sigh and, hoping I won't get punched, tap one of them on the shoulder. He spins on his heel, giving me a death glare I didn't think a ten-year-old could manage.

"I'm busy! Go away!" He whines. Well, minus several dozen points for imposing voice, then.

I try to look as calm and reasonable as I can. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Look, kid, I just need you and your friend to move aside for a second so I-"

The kid whirls again and kicks me in the shin. "I said GO AWAY!" he shouts, and returns to his battle looking like somebody just called his mother a skank right to his face.

I take another deep breath. I let it out slowly. I count to ten. I concentrate on soothing imagery. I ask Josh for reassurance that I'm handling this the right way.

And then, like any other reasonable person who has tried their best, I pick Josh up and launch him at the kid's head.

While I'm massaging my bruised shin and trying to drown out the sounds of a Totodile gnawing on an obnoxious brat, a guy in a bug catcher's hat enters the scene. Observing the chaos, he seems to decide that I merit talking to and sidles up.

"They wouldn't get out of your way, huh?"

"Yeah. I needed to get to Mr. Pokémon's house."

He gives me a look of dull surprise. "What, that old guy who keeps badgering people about eggs? He lives on West 29. You didn't need to get by these guys at all."

"Shit." I remark, which seems like an inappropriately calm response to wasting so much time. I look over to where the two kids are cowering in fear of Josh. He has them backed up against a tree, wearing his most menacing scowl, growling his most fearsome growl.

He's downright adorable, in other words.

"Er, Josh…" He snaps his head around impatiently, clearly offended that I interrupted his "Vicious Crocodile" routine.

"So, erm… it turns out we have to take a different path…" I mutter sheepishly. He groans in exasperation and looks skyward.

"Let me take a good chunk out of their legs? Please? I promise I'll be quick!"

"Sorry, buddy. We haven't got the time." I glance back at the bug catcher, who looks equal parts amused, horrified, and weirded out. "Thanks for the tip, man. I'd hate to have wasted any more time on these two."

He gives a wave of dismissal. "No problem. They pull this crap every other day. You did everyone around here a great service."

I smirk against my will. "See you later, man." I give him a short wave and head on my way.

* * *

A patch of grass rustles up ahead. Josh and I both stop in our tracks, tensing up. This could be it-

A Pidgey hops out of the grass.

Josh and I exchange grins. Time for our first battle!

Josh advances on the Pidgey, which stands its ground. He glances back at me. "Awaiting orders, _jefe_."

What, now the Pokécom can distinguish between when Josh wants to say "boss" and when he wants to say "jefe"? Shouldn't it all just translate into English? Screw it, I won't even ask anymore.

"What attacks have you got?" I wish I'd established that sooner- we could have worked out our strategy in advance.

He grins evilly. Oh, this will be good. He's got something awesome up his-

"Scratch and Growl."

What.

Ah. Okay, then. Scratch and Growl. It could be worse. I quickly design a strategy that I think will work, and give it a codename.

"Okay, Josh. Use Attack Formation Grey Prime."

"And that would be?"

"Spam Scratch until you need to be healed."

He smiles and nods. The Pidgey, which has sat through all this with astounding patience, suddenly launches a tackle at Josh, hitting him square in the navel. He falls backwards, skidding along the ground a good distance.

He struggle back to his feet, glaring daggers. "Oh, it is _on _you little snot."

"Bring it, bitch." the Pidgey smirks, beckoning with his wing tips. Woo, this one's got a mouth on him.

There's a flash of claws, a few squawks, some maniacal laughter.

Attack Formation Grey Prime is a rousing success.

* * *

We laugh as we walk, celebrating our first victory as a team. Even though I've only known him for a little over an hour, Josh is rapidly climbing to the top of my list of friends. It's probably because we have the same twisted sense of humor.

Finally, we reach a house standing in a large clearing. A sign out front identifies it as Mr. Pokémon's house. I walk up and knock on the door.

"Come in, please!" Calls a jovial someone from inside. I push the door open and am shocked at what I find.

The house is covered in the exact sort of stuff you find in a normal house: book case, couch, a table, some chairs, a TV set. More shocking still, the elderly man sitting at the table is perfectly ordinary looking, if a little overdressed. His mustache crinkles in a smile and he tips his trilby hat, momentarily revealing a head of thinning white hair.

Sitting across from him is an equally old man in a white shirt and an old-fashioned yellow jacket- the type with patches at the elbows. He smiles politely, staring at me with frankly unsettling interest from under a shock of grayish-yellow hair.

I can't believe what I'm seeing. Professor Samuel Oak, the Stephen Hawking of the Pokémon research field, is having lunch with some alleged wackjob? This is too weird for words.

"Ah, you must be Chris!" The old man in the trilby- Mr. Pokémon, I presume- cries. "Well, I suppose you'll be wanting that thing I was going to give to Professor Elm." He bustles over to a counter on the far side of the room and plucks a large egg off of it. Looks like the Professor was right.

"I expect you heard a lot of sarcasm about how often I hand in Togepi eggs, Chris?" He smiles.

I look at the ground and rub the back of my head. "Well, not as such…"

He bursts out laughing. "That's what I thought. Well, when you get this to him, tell him that this one is truly unique. He'll understand after he conducts a few tests." He hands me the egg, which I slip into my pack. Meanwhile, Oak hasn't taken his eyes off of me.

"As you're here, Chris, I wonder if you'd like to meet my dear friend Professor Oak?" Oak gets up from the table and strides over, offering a hand. I smile and shake it.

"So, Chris, I see that you've chosen a Totodile for your partner." He leans down to pat Josh on the head. He seems to be tolerating it, but…

Oh no, please don't-

Josh chomps down on Oak's hand- or would have, if Oak hadn't withdrawn it quickly.

"Of course. It's normal for Totodiles to act that way towards people other than their trainers." I can't believe it, but he's still got that polite little smile on his face, and it seems genuine. "How long ago did you get him?"

I do a quick estimate. "Around an hour and a half ago, sir." I reply.

Complete and utter shock. "Really? You've only had him for _that long? _You must be an exceptional trainer to bond with a pokémon that quickly." He looks thoughtful for a moment, then starts rummaging in his bag. "There's something here I think you should have, Chris- it's a very useful tool for trainers. I've been trying to get them standardized throughout the country, but right now they're rare outside of the Kanto region- ah!" He pulls out a red device, about the size of a largish pocket calculator. "It's a sort of high-tech encyclopedia." He explains.

I immediately resolve to write "Don't Panic" on the cover in large, friendly letters.

"It's called a Pokédex. It records information about pokémon you encounter. Just point this lens on the back at the pokémon you want to scan, press the large button in the center, here, and… voila!" A page detailing Totodiles appears on the screen.

He holds the Pokédex out to me. I take it, taking special care not to drop it. "Thanks, Professor. This means a lot."

"It's no big deal, Chris. Besides, using it helps my research. The information you gather gets transmitted directly to me." He glances at a clock hanging on the wall. "Well, I suppose it's getting a bit late. I'll let you on your way, Chris."

"Alright. Thanks for the Pokédex, Professor. I'll use it as much as I can."

"I appreciate it." I turn to leave, amazed at this encounter with such a brilliant man.

"Oh, and Chris?" I turn back to him. He's smiling benevolently.

"Get a real Trainer's License as soon as you can."

* * *

As soon as I step outside, a little more disgruntled than I was a second ago, my Pokégear phone starts ringing. I tap the "Accept Call" button, and I'm greeted by an incoherent shout.

"Chris- hello- are you there? Oh, it's terrible!" I recognize Elm's voice. He's in a panic, each heavy breath coming across as a burst of loud static on my end.

"Professor!" I say, a little louder than necessary. "Calm down, I can't understand you! Tell me what happened!"

He's not taking my advice. "Chris, just get back to the lab! We need you here!"

_CLICK._

Josh gives me a horrified look. Suddenly, as though on a signal, we dash south, towards the lab and, I feel, danger.

* * *

Okay, so, before you review: I know that some people are apt to bitch about my gratuitous use of the word "English" in the 3rd section, since Johto is based on a region of Japan and the characters should logically be speaking Japanese, even if it appears as English to the reader. So, I'd just like to say that I know that already, and I have a good explanation- Chris's family are immigrants, and while he has learned to speak Japanese fluently, he speaks English at home, and so he has the Pokécom set for English.

Yes, I _did _just pull that out of my ass. But it does make an adequate explanation, you must admit.

On a far less important note: I am now cutting the "Areas reopen when pokémon die" rule from my playthrough. It just seems too easily exploitable for the purposes of picking and choosing my team.

**Edit 11/6/10: **Okay, I know this is taking an obnoxiously long time to update, but Chapter 3 is in the works. I'm currently taking a break to let some trusted associates critique the rough draft to make sure it's as polished as possible. Expect it out soon.

**Edit 11/8/10:** ... Or not. Due to some mishaps, Chapter 3, as well as the physical form of my laptop itself, has been lost. Long story short: my sister dropped it. So, I'll be absent for a while. I'm truly sorry about this. Please be patient with me.


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